


Obsession

by Memory25



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, I wanna go home, It's sadder, Things get real, This isn't Naruto, being a kid, being alone, sadness and sorrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memory25/pseuds/Memory25
Summary: There's a reason why heroes are heroes. There's a reason why everyone loves them. There's a reason why you're not a hero. (It's something you ARE, not something you DO.) Si/OC-insert who will probably be very useless.





	1. Chapter 1

It isn’t often that a young girl is unceremoniously deposited in another world. It is even less often when it is not accompanied by Revelation or some apt epitaph and perhaps a thunderstorm or two. Conversely, it _is_ more common when she (boys are less common) is deaged to a suitably young age as to be able to utilize the natural gift that is a child’s innocence and puppy-dog-eyes.

Incidentally, she always meets the Hero.

xXXx

There’s a hero in every story. A hero, a main character, the leader who is blessed with an indomitable will that naturally translates to an indomitable strength.

Their character may be flawed, their personality may be less than ‘perfect’, but every single one of them will always be there to save the day.

Thankfully, the main character of this story, who also happens to be the main character of his Story, is very kind and takes her in.

Of course, the girl is very familiar with the Story.

xXXx

Let us start from the very top of issues you will face when you are inserted into a fictitious world:

Take into consideration that you are an average human being living an averagely privileged life complete with computer and decent Wi-Fi so as to sustain your intense interest in one of the loves of your life: Manga and its respective fan fiction. In addition to these two hobbies, you have a third which consists of wondering what _you_ would be able to do should you somehow have the power to affect this story. Obviously, the simplest solution is that you have to be in the verse in order for it to work. Just as apparently, you have powers you know not but will discover either through completely safe self-testing or miraculous in-battle happenstance.

You will be powerful, of course. You will most definitely be the smartest person in the room no matter how filled with geniuses it is. You will also hold all the cards and dish them out in tiny, stingy doses in order to have the best and most long-lasting effects while simultaneously maintaining your cool, mysterious persona by not being surprised by anything.

You will not fall in love with the hero.

The hero will fall in love with _you._

Then reality comes crashing and you realize that if you want to actually turn this idea into a story, you cannot Mary Sue your way through. You, yourself, hate Mary Sues and thus you are empathically in agreement that corrections are in order.

‘You’ becomes ‘someone else’ and ‘she’ is unable to resolve anything in the blink of an eye. ‘She’ has a flawed character, a less than ideal personality, but somehow, despite lack of strength greater than the main character, manages to save the day anyway.

She is not the smartest person in the room, although she may manage to enough cards to overcome that. She dishes them out in tiny, stingy doses to have the best effects for _her_ because once she uses them all, she won’t have anything to hold against her enemies, while some will simply lose effect once the events pass. Sometimes she is forced to play more than she wishes and sometimes she makes horrible mistakes. Any hope of a cool, mysterious persona is completely obliterated because there are so many genuinely cool and mysterious characters in the story that any attempt falls flat.

 _Eventually,_ she builds up enough strength of her _own_ that she can at least play support, at most stand back-to-back with the hero. She will be relied on, she will grow into her own, and she will be loved by whichever character she spends the most time with who is also decently handsome.

She may fall in love with him too and it’s either the end already or they steadily grow more in love as they continue to fight the good fight and resolve more problems that you disagree with.

 _You_ do not fall in love with anyone, because they are puppets dancing in the palm of your hand and _she_ is not _you_ and thus she is able to love even someone she once considered fictitious.

She will have children or a good life or die a heroic death with a smile on your face.

You will wake up the next morning with the screen shining in your face, drool on your sleeve and the next episode on your playlist.

xXXx

Except you don’t.

Return back to the issue at hand, you are _you_ and you are in a foreign land with foreign people and you have nothing.

You are sitting on a pavement while people walk past, casting curious looks but nothing too concerned because a young girl sitting on the pavement with a dazed expression on her face is not something truly _concerning._ Youth is foolish and filled with daydreams, after all.

You rifle through your child-sized clothes—one of the small kindnesses the universe provides you—and turn up completely empty. You are a prepubescent child with no money, no family, no home and no identity.

You attempt to find the nearest police station.

Lo and behold there is none.

There is also no Home for Orphans. Or shelter for the homeless. There isn’t even a church/temple.

There are concerned adults who attempt to help you look for your parents, but your name does not make sense to them and they believe you are unwilling to share your real name. You look too obviously Japanese to have an English name. Some of them buy you some food or candy, so now your pockets are filled and you will at least not starve for the next few days.

You’re still wondering where you are. It’s not as if the first _realistic_ thought you would have would be a pastime you indulged in.

Night falls.

xXXx

You spend your first night sleeping on a bench. It is hard on your young back and the lack of pillow is difficult to overcome. You are too anxious to simply fall asleep and it is _cold_ when the sun sets in Japan.

And frankly, the park becomes extremely creepy at night.

You spend the night twitching at shadows, curling into yourself, and surreptitiously scratching at the ant/mosquito bites on your legs.

xXXx

The next morning brings with it a rather welcome dawn. You are only unafraid of the darkness in your own home. The outside is too open and exposing especially when you can’t see what lies beyond the streetlights.

At least you have food.

You go back to the pavement, looking slightly more unkempt, and this time the concerned looks are more severe. You are approached by more adults who attempt to pry a Japanese surname from you, some with more forceful methods than others. They think you’re a runaway.

One woman slaps you in righteous indignation and rants about the hardship of parenthood and ingratitude of children. Sadly, you are within the age of reasonable physical punishment (this is the East, where Child Services doesn’t work that way), not barely out of toddlerhood. You are still embarrassed when you burst into tears though.

She doesn’t believe you when you say your name, just as she doesn’t believe you don’t know where you are.

She _does_ give you the name of the town, when she drags you to an unrepentantly cheerful town map at what is supposed to be the entrance of the town so you can point out where you live.

You manage to escape while she’s debating between slapping you again or shaking you until you rattle out an answer she can accept.

You run to the town park. You can hardly think with all the noise.

xXXx

There are children at the park. Some barely out of toddlerhood, some on the cusp of teenagerdom. They are separated into clear ranks and when they see a new girl running over crying, they prepare to adjust the hierarchy again.

When she refuses to play though, they outlaw her.

Since she’s already crying and is just sitting there sobbing, they return to their antics. Children have a callousness adults don’t have. They’re children themselves, why would they feel sorry for another?

(Kindness isn’t really as common as we wish)

They don’t really notice her now-silent form when the sun sets and it’s time to go home.

Except one boy, of course.

xXXx

You are at a loss, your head aches after your tears, and you wonder what is about to happen to you now. You know the manga and pretty much everything up to the Aizen arc, after which you refused to continue to read because that was _bullshit._ But that doesn’t concern you right now, because what is of utmost importance is _how are you going to survive here?_

You think of approaching the characters, but…you don’t dare to. You don’t know which part you are in, and you don’t know whether they will help. The characters of this Story are…kind but not necessarily _charitable._ And those who are, are not be in the position to help. You won’t burden them with yourself, you still have some pride and decency as a human being after all.

(When there’s nothing left to cling to, you find something anyway. You’ll probably change your mind when you’re starving to death, but you’re not there yet…)

But…what are you to do?

“…Hey, are you okay?”

xXXx

In every fairy tale there is a hero. And that hero is kind.

Ichigo looks like the only kind person in town right now, and he is your _saviour_ , because he believes your name and how you are utterly lost. He actually _offers_ to let you stay with his family after hearing your (partially edited) story. You don’t really believe his parents will allow you to stay on their son’s say-so, but perhaps they might help you find _a_ place to stay in.

So you nod and follow him, hope burgeoning with every step.

(That pride is ignored in favour of survival. You’re not nearly strong-willed enough to cling to something useless when offered help.)

xXXx

Ichigo isn’t at the age of teenage rebellion, or even at the age of pained defiance. His mother is still alive, which is why he is open and vulnerable in a way you have not seen in most of the Story. His eyes shine so brightly and clearly it almost makes you guilty at how you are relying on him. Disregarding your physical condition, you are much, much older than him. You should not be the one being protected. Ichigo is not the hero yet.

As you near the Kurosaki Clinic, Ichigo grabs your hand firmly, as if aware that you are debating making a break for it. You’re not sure what is going to happen if you interfere in the story, and there is a tiny voice in your head berating you for changing things already. What is the life of a single, not-even-of-this-universe person compared to the potential lives of hundreds? You are not that important.

You feel your breath hitch as you cross the threshold.

(And isn’t it just convenient, that it’s now too late to turn back and you don’t have to face up to the decision you have made?)

xXXx

Kurosaki Masaki is a very warm and kind woman. You can see that Ichigo inherited her will and heart on top of the colour of her hair. She is extremely understanding when you explain that you have no idea how you came to be in Karakura Town, as well as how your name is not even the slightest bit Japanese.

Kurosaki Isshin, on the other hand, is suspicious of you. He knows of the supernatural world, so he must suspect something of that nature. (What, exactly, that nature consists of, you are unsure.) He stares with wary eyes and not-quite-looms over you. You squirm in your seat as toddlers Karin and Yuzu clamber onto your lap with childish curiosity. Everything is so different from what you remember of the Story.

(And yet it makes sense, if they were real people. Because lives are stories where most of the parts do not get told. You wonder which parts of _this_ story never got told, because it’s already an outrageously long story. Except, of course, it’s _life._ There’s always going to be more left unsaid then told.

But it’s just a _story…_ right?)

Despite the differences in opinion, they offer you a night’s stay which you gratefully accept. Ichigo even offers his bed in an attempt to be gentlemanly but you turn him down—the couch is already heavenly compared to the park bench.

You shower, change into a set of Ichigo’s pyjamas, and collapse into the first real sleep you have had in far too long.

xXXx

It is unknown what sort of research Isshin-san has done on you, but it seems you pass whatever test he requires. He relaxes a little more into the role of the happily married human and even makes jokes about your name. He tells you that he can’t find anyone with your name or background in Karakura or even Japan and that his friends are looking into finding your parents overseas. You nod timidly, because even the happily married human is rather intimidating to your now puny size—Isshin is a very large man.

Ichigo must have noticed, because he takes this opportunity to insist vehemently that you stay with them. You vacillate between refusing and remaining silent, because you _really_ don’t want to trouble them and take advantage of their kindness, and because you’re not sure if you can survive on your own.

(You realize you’re actually kind of useless on your own. You _really_ have no survival skills. Maybe in your own world…but that’s still a maybe. You appreciate your parents a lot more now, though now that you’re thinking on them you realize they may have become a moot point.

And then you realize why everyone who is anyone always wants to go home despite this exciting new world/powers/love-life. You could _probably_ live without ever seeing them again, but there’s something suspiciously close to _heartbreak_ when you entertain the possibility.)

You’re kind of crying before you notice, to the horror of the collective Kurosaki siblings.

Masaki-san is very, very warm and very, very kind, you note, as she pulls you into her arms. You haven’t hugged anyone since you were a kid and it’s an unbelievably good feeling. Isshin-san also pats you gently-for-him on the head when you stammer your thanks—the little voice at the back says your genuine anguish is helping to erase his suspicion and you hate it.

(Hate it but can’t help but trust it.)

And you still can’t stop crying, so much so that Ichigo’s decided to shoo everyone else away and bring you to his room to look for his trusty stuffed toy that is guaranteed to chase away monsters. On clapping eyes on it, you burst out laughing—it’s a stuffed lion!

Ichigo looks very pleased at your response, and pushes it into your arms. You grin from ear to ear as you squeeze it—it’s a lot bigger and rounder than Kon, and furred too. It’s definitely relaxing to hug. The orange of its mane matches the boy’s hair exactly—probably why his parents had purchased it.

Tears are still rolling down your cheeks, though. Ichigo points that out with disappointment.

You agree wetly, and ask for a hug from him too. Surprisingly, he agrees and wraps his skinny arms around both you and the toy.

It’s definitely the last straw.

You fall in love with Kurosaki Ichigo.

xXXx

The next few days are a little awkward, because the Kurosaki family has decided to accept you and that means—as far as you understand—fully adopting you as one of their own. You’re a little stunned when Isshin-san later corners you and explains that he can’t find your parents or even any documentation on your birth. Which you already knew meant you do not exist.

(You wonder what will happen to your soul if you die here, then. And then it hurts to think because the possibility of death looms over your shoulder the closer you keep to Ichigo—and yet you can’t bear to tear yourself away from him now. You know he’ll protect you, and you can’t help but burden him. You’re not anywhere near strong. Strong in body, strong in mind, strong in spirit. You’re nowhere near it.)

SO, he continues with a reassuring grin, he had asked a very good friend of his to make them for you—else you wouldn’t be able to attend school, he adds. He’s obviously not expecting you to understand what that actually means, but he gets to the main point that he wanted to address: That the name on the birth certificate was a Japanese one.

They could continue calling you by your real name, he assures you hurriedly, but due to circumstances, the name you’ll have to write on your homework will have to be the one on the certificate.

And. Well. Apparently you’re a Kurosaki now. Kurosaki Hana to be precise. Ichigo’s cousin from his mother’s side.

( _Mother’s_ side?)

You dissolve into tears again because you’re a big crybaby and you never realized the hero’s family would obviously be equally heroic—that shit was hereditary after all.

You manage to calm down enough to assure the frantic man that you love your new name.

xXXx

A few more days pass and you settle a little. Karin thinks you’re cool because you showed her what happens when you put Mentos in Coke and Yuzu likes you because Karin likes you. You’re sharing with Ichigo at the moment because Karin and Yuzu’s room is too cramped and the both of you are too young to feel awkward.

You’ve started helping Masaki-san with the housework, and Isshin-san very proudly lets you watch him at the clinic. You’re registered to start school with Ichigo in the spring.

You find that, after all that has happened, everything worked out.

( _For now_ , the clock continues to tick. But you don’t let yourself dwell on these thoughts, or there will be yet another breakdown. There’s an imminent one waiting in the wings, but you have time yet. _For now,_ the bells chime.)

Because Ichigo saw you and thought to ask if you were okay.

Heroes, after all, always save the day.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been two years since she’s lived with the Kurosaki family. Karin and Yuzu call her Hana-nee as easily as they call Ichigo Ichi-nii. She’s like a second shadow to Ichigo, following him quietly. It’s not very apparently creepy, because she’s a pretty, fresh-faced girl on the cusp of puberty and an air of gentleness about her.

At least, that’s the impression most people receive. Not many are able to approach Kurosaki Hana, not without speaking to Kurosaki Ichigo.

(Most prefer talking to open, boisterous, warm Ichigo anyway. Hana is the friend you smile and nod at. There’s heaviness on her shoulders, and children can sense that.

Children can sense a lot of things.)

It’s alright, because the people who surround Ichigo mirror him in some small way. They are warm and welcoming. Kind where it matters. Tatsuki who matches him in protectiveness, Keigo and Mizuiro in openness. She’s a little in awe, and grateful that she gets to bask in his presence. She’s a little surprised he never forgets her. Even the twins sometimes do.

(It’s nice, being a wallflower. She used to clamour for attention, but now, hidden in his shadow, it’s a comfort.)

xXXx

You follow him everywhere, not just because he is safe and warm. Is this what love is like? Your heart flutters every time he smiles at you, his every action draws your eye. Just being in his presence is like walking on clouds. You can pick him out from a crowd of similarly orange-haired people. You love him, adore him, and admire him all at once.

Isshin-san’s already started the daughter-in-law jokes, which Masaki-san surprisingly does not discourage. Ichigo initially protested, splutteringly with flailing arms and everything, but it seems nearly two years of constant teasing has dulled his reaction. He just ignores it now, even when Tatsuki occasionally calls her ‘Bride-san’. She secretly loves it, but doesn’t really expect anything to come out of it. She is hopelessly normal, while Ichigo—he’s like the sun you can’t turn away from.

Everyone has watched Ichigo grow. Can see the great protector he will one day be. You can’t see the ghosts you know are there, but it’s enough to see the small smile he gets whenever you try to address them.

(You’re facing the wrong way, Hana. She’s on your _left.)_

It is a remarkably normal life, living with the Kurosakis. Once in a while you will be plagued by a bout of guilt-induced nightmares, waking up shivering and choking on predictions. You want to tell someone, you don’t want to tell someone, you want to help, you want to run away. The clock ticks on, sometimes so quiet you almost forget it.

You manage to, somehow, ignore the impending deadline until it is staring you in the face.

xXXx

Ichigo’s crying.

You blink, taken aback, because this is _Ichigo,_ this is _Kurosaki Ichigo._ He doesn’t _cry._

But the both of you are at the dojo and you’re sitting at the side watching his match and cheering him on when the sensei calls the match. It’s fine that he’s lost, because he’s still young and learning and Bleach isn’t the kind of world where you can gain anything without putting effort.

Except he pulls back from his bow sharply and stomps towards you with his head down and you realize those are _tears, Ichigo’s tears, his eyes are wet._ You fly to your feet at once, except you don’t know if it’s alright to comfort him or let him be or give him tough love…you don’t _know_ this Ichigo, not as well as you do his future counterpart, and it hits you but it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you don’t know what to say.

Tatsuki calls him a ‘crybaby’ and suddenly you can feel heat roaring up to your face.

xXXx

Isshin doesn’t know what’s going on when he arrives at the dojo with his beloved wife to fetch his beloved children. Ichigo is standing beside the master looking half dumbstruck and half awed. There are traces of tears on his face, but he doesn’t look upset. In fact, the adult beside him looks more upset than he does, though there’s a brief glint of humour when he exchanges looks with them.

“Perhaps you should also enrol your daughter in the dojo,” he tells them solemnly, nodding towards the interior of the building.

Isshin perks up, because he’d been wondering why Hana wasn’t with Ichigo. They were inseparable. It was _fact._ He pads in curiously, only to see Tatsuki, Ichigo’s friend, with her face in her hands, sitting in a corner facing the walls. He has half a mind to approach her when he spots the tell-tale heaving of her shoulders that imply that she’s crying.

He startles a little, because this is _Tatsuki,_ Ichigo’s tomboy, strongest-in-the-dojo friend. Now he’s even _more curious_ about what happened.

He finally finds Hana sitting stiffly in front of the nurse, looking like she’d gone toe to toe with, well, the strongest student in the dojo. Her eyes are wet and streaming, but her face is bared in a snarl and now that he’s closer he can see that she’s been tied to her chair. _Ho,_ he thinks to himself, the little bird is a wolverine, after all.

He can roughly guessed what happened, since it’s only been recently that Ichigo had become good enough to actually merit a real, contact-allowed spar. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, still wondering how his little wallflower managed to claw up the little fighter girl. 

 _Ah well,_ he told himself, _you did say you wished Hana were a little more demanding._

He walks over, watches her expression freeze and then tighten, and then settle into an uncompromising frown. _Ho,_ he tells himself again, feeling pride flutter in his chest, _she’s as stubborn as a true Shiba._

He opens his arms and announces, “Hana-chwaaaaaaannnnnn!”

xXXx

You feel the twinge of bruises everywhere. They ache and they hurt and you’re not even embarrassed that you’re near bawling at the pain. Tatsuki is well-feared, and you know that if she had not been surprised, you wouldn’t have gotten as many hits in as you did. You sniffle and scrub your snot on your sleeve, but there are bruises there too and you only half manage to raise your arm, so you bend your head down to reach.

Ichigo’s fluttering around the room, and you don’t know how he feels about what you just did. Tatsuki’s been friends with him since they were practically babies, while you’ve only fallen into his life after. But you don’t regret picking the fight, ridiculous as it was.

Ichigo carefully peels open a plaster and pastes it on your cheek. You didn’t even notice that there was a little trickle of blood mixed with the tears. He smooths it over gently, hands careful and light. You don’t dare to look at him.

And then he presses a kiss on the plaster.

You blink, because—because! You—he—what…

Your hand is on your cheek in an instant, the skin under it burning and you just _know_ you’re tomato-ing. Ichigo is remarkably oblivious to that, instead proceeding to cover every obvious bruise with a kiss. He even kisses you on the shin.

“GWAHAHAHAHAHA!” Isshin bellows, making you jump and nearly kick Ichigo in the throat. You squeak, draw up your legs and do your best to shy away from the kissing boy as much as possible. You really don’t know what to think. You’re not sure you have sufficient RAM at the moment.

You can hear the nurse giggling.

“Oh my, what’s this?” Masaki-san’s voice actually scares you instead of calming you. She stands at the doorway looking both curious and amused. Isshin isn’t in a condition to explain.

Of course, that means it’s Ichigo to the rescue!

“I kissed her boo-boos better!” he announces proudly, running to hug her legs like he always does, that mama’s boy, “ _All_ of ‘em!”

“Oh my!” Masaki-san replies, “I didn’t get to take a picture! Why don’t you do it again and I’ll take one so we can put it in the family album?”

“Okay!” Ichigo, that useless, oblivious sod agrees like an idiot. He runs back to you and tries to kiss you again. On your elbow.

(You debate making him ‘kiss’ your elbow in another, nose-breaking way)

Masaki-san laughs, but there’s no camera sound, which means no picture which means—“Why don’t you kiss her on the cheek?”— _damnit I trusted you!_

You put your arms up and push the smooch face away. It’s really awful, Ichigo’s puckered up and everything. He tries to break through by resting his weight on his face. Which. _Idiot, what if I just let go and you kiss the floor?!_

“Masaki-san…!” You cry out, because this is really inhumane. You’re about to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

“Now, come on, Hana-chan~” she wiggles the camera in your face with a beautiful (devious) smile.

Why. Why you do this.

In the end, you have to settle for sitting pretty and letting Ichigo hold his kissy face to your cheek for a good minute while Masaki-san hems and haws and pretends to adjust the camera. She even takes more than one picture. Goat-face Isshin guffaws in the background.

_I swear, you crazy mama’s boy, I will remind you of this when we’re older. And it’ll be all. Your. Fault!_

Of course, you realize at the end of all this, you’re not even teary-eyed anymore.

(Also, you’re sort of happy. Okay, _a lot happy.)_

xXXx

 


	3. Chapter 3

Masaki-san is going to die. This...event you cannot deny. It will happen. And you are helpless to prevent it. You are but a mere girl who has no power, no special background. You are a mortal girl and.

And you have knowledge.

You take a deep breath and ponder on it. You think and think and think and think because. Because Masaki-san is as good as your second mother. She cares for you like you were her own flesh and blood. She has all but opened her home and heart to you and. And when you were homesick and worried and anxious and sad. When you were missing your father, your mother, your aunt and uncle and your sibling and your cousins and...

When you were missing your _family,_ just the entirety that is _family,_ she came and hugged you and held you while you cried and wept and she cried for you too, for a stranger who has intruded on her family. She told you your mother must surely be heartbroken without her daughter. She told you your father would gnash his teeth and search for you through the years. She told you, family can never forget each other, and your siblings will most definitely never forget you.

You are _precious and loved,_ she assured you, _and it is something to be cherished and mourned. Cry,_ she told you, tears rolling down her beautiful face and wetting the bangs of orange hair, _for you have lost something worth dying for._

You howled and beat your chest, for the pain in it surely will kill you. You are _alone_ in a world without a single relative. _Nobody_ here shares your blood. _Nobody_ here knows your childhood or your foolish adolescence. You may have Masaki-san and Isshin-san and Ichigo and his sisters but they did not know when you first opened your eyes.

They did not know you were a mischievious girl who picked fights in school, who yelled the loudest for attention, who clamoured at your grandparents' feet with half a dozen other cousins for New Year Red Packets, earnestly reciting couplets of well-wishes you had only researched the night before. That you will forget until New Year arrives again.

Your best friend does not number among them, that fellow who was the one who understood you most, who supported you through your rebellious phase, who joined you in that rebellion all the way to college and whom you promised even after you would stay with. Best Friends Forever, you had vowed on a cheery day in a classroom you can still see in your minds' eye, exchanging friendship bands you had woven because they were trendy and everyone had been doing it.

You scream and weep. You shriek and struggle as Masaki-san held you back from hurting yourself.

You wipe away tears as you remember that day, as well as several days after that. You think it's impossible to cry yourself dry of tears because everyday you find new ones and you think that you will cry for the rest of your life for what you have lost to this stupid cliche plot device.

But back to Masaki-san who has been so generous and kind to you.

She cannot die.

This is no longer the otaku talking. It is you, purely from the depths of your heart. This is a beautiful woman with an equally beautiful family and you need to repay her for what she has done for you. Keep the secret? What for? _How_ can you allow yourself to think such a thing? What is so important that you feel that you should hoard your knowledge and _let Masaki-san die?_

You laugh coldly at your cowardly self. Perhaps Hana, Ichigo's wallflower stalker, has imprinted herself on you more than you realized. Humans, after all, settle into habits quickly.

xXXx

Nobody seems to suspect the bomb you are about to drop on them when you ask for a private talk with Isshin-san and Masaki-san after dinner. You prop yourself up on the chair, hands shaking in your lap as they shoot concerned looks over your downturned head.

"What is it, Hana-chan?" Isshin-san is unusually serious as he sees your worried expression. Masaki-san doesn't even speak, she just pull her chair beside yours and tuck you under her arm reassuringly.

You spit it out. First the event you want to avoid. The arm around you tenses and you wince because if they get angry-but you have already resolved yourself and there's no turning back and so you spit out the sentence after that and the one after that, until the choking ball of worry gives way to proper speech and tumbling words.

You tell them _everything._ You tell them of Masaki-san's death. You tell them of your knowledge of isshin-san's background. You tell them of _Aizen_ and and and _Arrancar_ and Urahara Kisuke. Your memories are slightly faded, but what you remember you squeeze from your brain. You spout names as proof. Names of people, names of Zanbatou, names of Kidou and whatever else you manage to finagle from your hazy, useless memory.

You don't dare to look up when you finally end. You're still thinking of anything else you can remember because there is so much more to prevent if they want to prevent it because this is their _son_ you're talking about and what parent would let their son go through as much pain and suffering as he is/has/will?

Masaki-san's hand is still around your shoulders, though it feels like leaden stone weighing you down and preventing you from escaping. You shrink into yourself further and sit in silence that stretches and yawns longer and longer...

xXXx

Finally, Isshin's large hand descends on your head. It's warm, belying the strength that surpasses a human's. You flinch but just as you do, he ruffles your hair, like he always does, like he does to any of his children. And Masaki-san is pulling you to her until your head is just under her chin and you're half in her lap and you're so _tiny_ you feel light and small and weak and and and.

And something drops onto your hair. Is still dropping, now that you feel the depression on the strands. You reach up and it's wet and you bring it to your hand and it's not blood at least but it's water and it's _tears._ Masaki-san chokes and cries over you speechlessly and you finally look up and she's just _looking so sad what did you do?_

You turn around and Isshin--Ishin-san he's _crying too._ He-you-she everyone's just _crying_ and you're getting teary too.

Masaki covers her mouth with a hand and says, "Oh my _Ichigo-chan."_ And her eyes spill over with fresh tears because she is his _mother_ and how can she bear to hear of all that he has suffered?

And Isshin too, he's heaving great gulping sobs as he struggles to regain control. His hands clutch his knees tightly as he cries. It's unsightly, mucus and all, but it's so real, so genuine. This is a man who is a captain of a squad of death gods and he cries for his wife and his son. She thinks of reading how Ichigo calls him 'old goat' and 'useless dad' and she wants to wring his neck for the disrespect. Nevermind that she'd cheered whenever he'd punched him.

Masaki-san hugs you as you start crying (it seems you've done nothing _but_ cry these days) and she strokes your hair and says, _"Thank you,_ Hana-chan. _Thank you_ for telling us." And you sniff because all you've done is run your mouth and thrown all responsibility at them. You think about destiny and fate and butterflies and a story determined to run its course and you are so _afraid._ You are so _weak._ You are _useless now._

Isshin recovers fairly quickly, although he too is snuffling and wiping his snot on his sleeve. He reaches over and takes you from Masaki and he sits you on his lap and it's the first time you've ever been held by him like this. He presses your small head into his chest with his large paw and you can feel him gather himself just to tell you, "You did well Hana-chan. Now rest easy and leave the rest to us adults." He pats his chest and puffs outwards, "I am a man with a big enough chest to carry everything. So just bury yourself in my chest and leave it to me and my beautiful wife!"

And you would giggle as he intended if you didn't know how much courage it took for him to shoulder this burden. If you had not felt him suck in a deep breath to say all that for your sake. If you had not seen his trembling hands as he'd clutched at his knees and cried. If you were not mentally the age you are.

So you do not laugh. Instead you cry louder, but it's less painful now, this loud wailing, and Isshin promptly acts the idiot clown and mock-panics to placate you. You wail but it's relieving and Masaki-san promptly steals you back to tuck you into _her_ chest and well. Boobs in your face. You are a girl but boobs. In. Your. Face. (Actually more like your face in boobs because they're bigger. Unfortunately.)

Ichigo comes running down later, still half-dressed in PJs and hopping on one foot because obviously the half he _isn't_ wearing is the bottom one. You shriek at the sight of his dangly bits because obviously he doesn't wear underwear to sleep and Isshin roars about defiling your eyes and Masaki snort-giggles evilly and brings out a camera and. Yeah. Everything is...probably going to be alright. You think.

Ichigo is whining at the lump Isshin gives him and his agreeing to his mother's proposal that he take responsibility and marry you. Um. Wait.

"NOOOO!" Your squeal lights up the whole house, and laughter is restored.


End file.
